Team Fortress 2: Hot Sniper Orgy
by Dogs Bower
Summary: This is a horrible, horrible TF2 fanfic.
1. THIS

**Team Fortress 2: Hot Sniper Orgy**

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

2:34 P.M.

Something was wrong. So very wrong.

Pyro realized it when he stumbled upon the Sniper who was holding the captured Intelligence. He had come to discover why the Intel was being repeatedly dropped and picked up in quite the annoyingly childish manner, causing the Administrator's voice to stutter out "WE-WE-WE-WE HAVE-WE-WE-WE-WE-WE-WE-WE" over and over. He had been about to give the foolish Sniper a muffled piece of his mind, but stopped in his tracks upon the disturbing sight lying there on the Intelligence room floor.

The Sniper's trousers were pooled around his ankles, his hairy, scarred ass exposed for all unfortunate enough to witness. The Intel briefcase lay below his hips, open, rocking feebly under the might of his brutal thrusts. Papers squirted from it and scattered to the floor, some dry, some torn. Some wet with trace amounts of unmentionable bodily fluids that had also been squirting during the unspeakable event.

He was fucking it. He was fucking the Intel.

Such a thing made little sense in Pyro's mind, having sex with inanimate objects. And in public view, no less. Something was wrong indeed, and Pyro felt very much in danger. He took a step back. His guts clenched with dread, his head was filled with confusion. Then his mind went hysterical with pure fright when the Sniper turned his gaze to him. The dirty Australian man sized him up quickly. His interest in having obscene relations with the enemy briefcase waned. There was a much higher priority target in the vicinity. Now he rose from the floor, his glistening fuck rod protruding menacingly. It pointed directly at Pyro, appearing to seek him out with its one blind, weeping eye. Pyro flinched. He took another step back, the faintest hint of a whimper slipping out from his sturdy mask.

The Sniper uttered one word: "FUCK."

Pyro screamed as the unstable Aussie lunged for him. He turned and tumbled to the floor, his leg in the grasp of the crazed gunman. The sex crazed gunman.

"FUCK!" screamed the Sniper. With an absurd amount of strength for someone of his normally weak class, he began to drag Pyro to him.

Pyro clutched the thin carpet in attempts to save himself from a horrible rape-filled fate. He found no real purchase while trying to pull himself away. Knowing he was doomed if he didn't do something better, and fast, he kicked the insane Sniper off him. Freed, Pyro stumbled back to his feet. He took off running, terrified. He did not look back.

"FUUUUCK!" he heard the Sniper scream furiously from below.

Terror gripped poor Pyro as he ran out the Intel room door. He began searching for members of his team. He had to inform everyone of this situation before it got too out of hand. But as he came out toward the Resupply, he discovered it was already far too late. He bumped into a hysterical Medic who grasped him, staring at him with eyes wide as saucers.

"Zhey are coming!" He shook Pyro painfully, until Pyro's brains felt like they were rattling about in his skull. "Zhey are coming to rape us all!"

The words practically raped Pyro all by themselves. He recoiled in horror, letting out a pitiful shriek, recalling the sight of the Sniper below. He clung to the Medic, unable to focus on the cruel reality of the dire situation at hand. And the Medic clung to him, obviously desperate for comfort of some sort. The area was strangely quiet, and Pyro realized he could hear the Medic sobbing. Then he was sobbing in turn. The sobs grew as rapid footsteps approached from the hallway below, along with heavy breathing and growling, the sound predatory and hungry. Hungry for malevolent sex.

"FUCK ALL THE WANKAHS!"

"Nein, nein, nein!" Medic babbled uncontrollably in his thick, mostly incomprehensible German accent. His cheeks were stained with tears, his nose leaked snot in long ropes. He looked very sweet because he was terrified and all the Medic fangirls like that for some reason. Oh wait I was supposed to be writing this seriously. Disregard that, even though I suck no cocks whatsoever. But Medic might. He always ends up that way in most fanfiction. "My life cannot end like zhis!" he cried.

"MURPHHPHRHRFPHGHRF!" cried Pyro.

And then two naked enemy Snipers they didn't see because they were too busy staring at the Intel room doorway attacked from the sides. Clever boys.


	2. IS

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

2:47 P.M.

Spy had fought valiantly with every last ounce of his strength. But it proved to be too little, too late. He had stabbed about eight enemy Snipers and three of his own team. And yet the waves continued to surge forward from the doorways of both forts. There were too many Snipers to combat all by his lonesome. Now they had joined forces to put a stop to his vain attempts to cull their numbers. They surrounded him, aiming to box him in.

"No, get away from me you despicable vermin!" he shouted, trying to defend himself with little more than a knife. "Back, back I say!"

How Spy wished that they had simply continued copulating with each other and ignored his presence. His mind found the thought utterly revolting, but longed for it anyway. Spy had stepped out from his respective place of deployment and found a nightmarish scene playing out before him. He thought that he had somehow perished during the last Respawning period and gone straight to Hell. His most hated enemies and rivals were spread about the field, some lying down in the dirt, some standing, some standing while others were bent over random items like crates and barrels. But all were engaging in the same wanton acts of carnality. They were all fucking. It was an orgy. A Sniper orgy. But in Spy's opinion, it was anything but hot.

The Reds and Blus were interspersed, neither caring with whom they gave a proper rooting to. But the acts were far from tender. They were as violent as the bush hunters were known to be on the field of combat. Which was very. Blood soaked the ground from knife wounds and gunshots. Some of the men still carried weapons with the knowledge of how to use them very much retained. Some were even drawing each other's blood with their own unusually sharp teeth, gained from a lifetime of poor dental hygiene yet ironically most were avid brushers. Some of the Snipers were still clothed, with the exception of their exposed pricks. A few had torn or shredded clothing and were in various states of disarray and partial nudity. Many were just plain buck naked, their bodies shining and ripe with the furious stench of Australian sweat, their sacred masculinity standing proud and rigid. Grunts and groans and moans and cries and screams and shouts and curses filled the air. Bodies thrusted and writhed and arched and undulated and flopped. Long, thick man sausages flashed in and out of receptive, slickened holes. Wet and willing mouths played multiple non-wooden Didgeridoos. Nipples were inhaled between lips and twisted and chewed teasingly between amazingly pearly white teeth. The sound of balls slapping against flesh echoed across the horizon, causing a shock wave that grew and felled the very birds from the skies. In some case, it caused them to explode or fly straight toward the turbines of passing aircrafts. There was much chaos.

It was too much for Spy to bear all at once. He began to retch dryly, which in turn caused the horde to become attentive of him. At that point in time, Spy wanted to piss himself but he did not have the bladder contents to make it happen. For that he was momentarily thankful.

Their demented, soulless eyes bore into his fearful ones. The Aussie bushmen's collective stares revealed a mindless zombie-like carnal hunger of dreadfully insatiable proportions. What sort of terrible disease could have unleashed such madness? Spy only wished he knew so that he could have aided somebody in finding a cure for it, thus avoiding his almost certain fate. But still he tried to make an escape. He tried to flee. But there were no Dead Ringers available here. Because the server was pleasantly vanilla. Or he just wasn't lucky enough to have gained one yet.

"Fuck the Spook!" one of the Sniper's growled with seething menace.

This lead a sudden charge toward him. Spy squealed like a hyper-sexualized teenage girl with a newly purchased vibrator and ran blindly across the bridge to the Blu fortress, enemy presence now of no concern. He simply needed somewhere to run, period. But they were fast. Too fast. They caught up to him and tackled him, falling upon him like starving children on a pack of gum. But they did not want to eat his flesh in the normal zombie sense. They began to tear off his clothes. Even as he screamed until his throat was hoarse, he could hear the sound of his thousand and one dollar suit ripping from his body piece by piece. And then there were only mouths. So many mouths. Sucking, biting, licking, and laving. And hands. And also stiff, slimy baby makers. At least ten of them, thrusting at his face and head and torso and ass. Two found their way into his unwilling mouth and he tried to scream through them but they shoved their way in quite forcefully and he gagged a little as they fought for control of his sweltering French throat. Another lucky individual got to slide his aching sperm slinger into Spy's velvety chocolate chamber. Since he had never once in his life had a homosexual thought, much less a matching experience despite perpetuated fanon of him being a super gay manslut, the pain was excruciating. Stars and swirls burst behind his eyes and he was sure to be about to lose consciousness but somehow he held on, much to his own chagrin. He wanted to sleep. Forever. Because being assfucked by his hated enemies without any lubrication aside from the saliva gained from a quick rimjob hurt. A lot.

"MON DIEUUUU" Spy exhaled monotonously, his mind and body breaking due to being pushed far past its limit in such a short amount of time.

He was almost certain he felt an interested Aussiecock sneaking its way into his nostril before he passed out into the welcome darkness.


	3. A

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

3:16 P.M.

Red Sniper No. 789 of TF Industries Teufort fortress establishment pulled up in his usual parking space and stepped out of his dusty van. He pulled out his rifle and miscellaneous equipment and kicked a bit of dirt from his boots. He hawked and spit. To him it was just another day, nothing out of the ordinary. Until he got closer in his walk toward the battle field. He didn't hear the familiar sounds of squabbling and gunfire coming from within the fenced in fortresses. But today was a scheduled fight, that he was certain. He was very thorough in his dates and scheduling, with nary a mix-up in his five years of loyal servitude. Then came the sound of a rifle crack. Relaxing, he continued on his way. As he stepped through the gate he was greeted with the familiar odor of testosterone and blood. But something felt a little off today. But what, he could not place.

Until he was attacked.

From behind him and to his side came the attack. He felt the butt of a rifle thrust into his gut and something else thrust into his rear as he fell. The soft yet hard pole-like object was safely deflected by his brown trousers which he hoped were not going to become more brown when he caught site of his attackers.

"Fuck is all this now, you filthy bludgers!" he demanded, winded from the first blow and startled from the secondary.

He saw himself being accosted by two trouserless Snipers. One Blu, one terrifyingly of his own faction. Their rock-hard croc-prods bounced longingly, threatening his very masculinity with their undesired presence. His testicles shrunk and sought refuge within his own body, motivated by the primal fear instilled in all men by God Himself. Instantly, he voided his massive bladder which had increased in size to keep up with his triple-sized kidneys. Hot piss washed over his thighs, browning his brown pants further. This only seemed to spur the two insane and horny Snipers into a stronger sexual frenzy.

"Pisssss," one of them hissed. It was the enemy, who promptly thrusted his rowdy roo wrangler into a new and less obstructed location. The currently sane Red Sniper's mouth.

"GUUUH!" the once sane Red Sniper screamed through the invading flesh tube. It began to enthusiastically violate his mouth. Before his addled brain could place together the coherent thoughts to provide him any defensive maneuvers, like biting down on the wriggling wombat inside his virginal mouth in the hope that it would exit the place it certainly did not belong, he was forced to the ground by the other traitorous Red. "RRRRRPH!" he vocalized helplessly.

The psychopathic sexual deviant Red Sniper ripped down the fallen Red's trousers, inhaling the intoxicating scent of the man's piss deeply. His mouth went to the Red's loo-lemonade stained bandicoot-banger and lapped up the still fresh remnants. Then he swallowed the other man's spunk dunker as far down his throat as humanly possible, causing the other Red to squeal through the mouth full of savory manmeat he was being so entertainingly choked by. He amused himself with his mirror image's rubbery duck, fighting with the resistant organ until by miraculous occurrence the onion bloomed. The rapee Red's double-dipped fun stick sprang to attention, causing the Red to squeal harder like a stuck razorback. Then it caused him to violently attempt a dislodging much the same way as previously alluded animal. He bucked the attacking Red off of him and shoved the suckling Blu away, and then tried to flee. In his hysteria however, he didn't account for the severe loss of direction. He didn't get very far before he tripped over two mating mates, a pair of Blu Snipers who were sharing each other's Vegemite chutes. They were arranged into a position of sexual seduction and anal penetration that did not by human standards seem plausible. But there it was. Maybe they had a few ribs removed. He did not get to dwell much on the absurd irrational thoughts before the accosting Snipers fell upon their weakened prey again. The Blu Sniper kicked the Red Sniper's legs from under him and he tumbled to the dirt, face first, ass up.

Immediately, the Blu worked his way into the Red's tunnel of forbidden love. The Red screeched into the dirt, so loud it caused the earthworms below to shed unshedable tears. Because they had no eyes. But they cried anyway. Somehow. Because the very laws of nature were being violated at that point in time. And they were tearing asunder. Like the Red's tender, virginal arse.

The victimized Red started to cry out in horror and resentment of his violation. That was until he realized with sudden sensual epiphany, that it felt nice. And that was because the infection from the opposing Red's original attack of his jiggling jizz jockey. The infection was quick spreading and devastating, in that it overtook the victim's body, mind, and very possibly soul in matter of minutes. Seconds, perhaps. In the Snipers' case, it infected them entirely and turned them into mindlessly sex-crazed creatures who would act upon their most secret and foul desires above all other logic and reasoning. Which turned out to be copious amounts of rape and murder, wouldn't you know. Also pissing, but not as much. Their first motivation was to infect other Snipers, who were the only ones who could be fully infected, by raping them. Then they raped usually to death all other non-Sniper classes as a secondary priority. Because their thoughts were filled with the need for rape and murder. And also that their own rapes felt really good for some reason. Some reason that cannot and will not be explained. Right now, the Red could not explain why getting his asshole rammed by the enemy's salami swami felt so amazing. But it was. And he reveled in it. While bleeding and screaming. With joy. And pain.

And then he was a sex zombie.


	4. HORRIBLE

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

4:01 P.M.

Scout knew he was a dead man. A soon to be raped dead man. Because they were going to rape him to death like they had almost everyone else on his team. And the other team, but he cared less about that.

He sucked his thumb furiously, curled into a ball and pressed up against the wall of the battlements. Most of his fellow Blus had been murderaped by the horde below. The rest had fled somewhere. Possibly to the uncertain safety of the Intelligence room's lock down. But who knew how long that would really remain a decent barricade from the horde. They were crazed and zombified. But they were remembering. And they were learning.

Right now the horde of Snipers were intent on claiming their prey, Scout. They were forming a tower of sexual perversity. A tower of nude, bloody, thrusting bodies. The sexual lust only served to further their blood lust, turning it into blood-sex-lust. Because they lusted for sex and also for the blood of their enemies, the non-Snipers. Scout figured he was safe from them for the while because they kept to the ground below and seemed to have forgotten how to use stairs, but now, he was terrified they would learn soon. His only hope if that happened was the bridge, his one last place of potential safety, and his own speed. Though he really couldn't rely on his special skills of running and jumping, because the Snipers had become much stronger than normal under their bizarre infection. The sobbing Bostonite clenched his fist, wishing that he had called in sick to work today like he had contemplated. That was when he felt the forgotten Red Intel briefcase. He had stolen it earlier on and was intent on capping it, but that was long ago before the boring but peaceful day turned into a nightmare. But maybe, just maybe he could use the Intel to aid in his defense. Summoning all his courage, he rose up on shaking legs and took timid yet bold steps toward the stacked Aussie manwhores. He swung the Intel angrily.

"Leave me da fuck alone!" he shrieked. He waved the briefcase like one would wave a torch in front of a lion's gaping jaws in hopes of warding it off.

It didn't faze them at all. Instead, it served to provoke their lustful rage. The top most Red Sniper snarled at him, waving a kukri in return.

"C'mere, wankah. Gonna cut ya a new arsehole, and then FUCK IT!" he hissed.

Scout burst into heavier sobs.

Just then he heard footsteps closing in on him. Being the quick young sprite he was, he was able to turn in time and size up the two Snipers headed for him from either side of the battlements. They were closing fast. He let out a scream like a dog whistle in that it was so high pitched it was not audible to human ears. Knowing the time had come, he jumped from the edge just as the two Snipers made a grab for him with bloody, cum stickied hands. For a brief and horrifying moment, he thought he would not make the jump across. For one thing, the tower of Snipers was right there in front of him. He was essentially jumping over it. The top Sniper even made a swing for him with his weapon and a grab with his free hand in order to knock or grab him right out of the air.

But he made it onto the bridge. Landing with a thump, he cried and thanked the great Ganesha for the blessing him with such luck.

"I did it!" he shouted. He turned and looked down below, startled. The tower was falling, a Sniper screaming the twisted scream of death.

Scout saw a Red Spy below. "You idiot!" shouted the Spy, hysterical, eyes wide. "Climbing won't save you!"

Before the Spy could finish what else he was about to say, a Blu Sniper charged forward and sunk his kukri deep into the feisty Frenchman's supple body. The hand rose and fell, chopping away at the stumbling man's back as he tried to flee, cutting chunks of flesh from bone like a butcher content with his job. The Spy gurgled with blood gushing from betwixt his lips, all while Scout watched from above. Then he collapsed against the wall near some tires, splattering everything within the distance with his crimson innards. The Blu Sniper fell to his knees beside the dead Spy and continued to chop at him with his blade, hacking away at bone and cleaving off entire limbs. Soon the Spy was nothing more than a head, which he proceeded to pop the mouth open of and jam his person porker into, leisurely humping the disembodied head as he walked away.

Scout cried some more, wishing he was dead. And then he the left side of his face exploded from the force of a bullet.

One of the enemy Snipers who had come up to the battlements and was in the midst of fucking his own rifle had unwittingly forced the trigger back with his bitch boner. He let out a guttural scream of pleasure and pain as he came, pouring a load of white wash onto the battlements. And then for some reason, blood squirted profusely from his eye socket and he died. He fell from the ledge to the ground below. Five more Snipers pounced upon his body and began to ravage it.


	5. WHORABLE

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

5:68 P.M.

The horde of vile Snipers had collected on the bridge. Engineer saw what might be his one chance to stop the insanity, this abominable Hell on earth, from spreading beyond the desecrated ground of Teufort. He signaled to the Blu Pyro, whom with he had formed a truce. The only real enemies here were the Snipers. The Pyro moved forward with his flamethrower at the ready. He waved it threateningly at the Snipers, but they were already quite distracted with lapping tongues at the shadowy nethers of their counterparts as they formed a tiny tower of lust and depravity. There was a sudden gunshot from a rifle wielding Sniper. Spooked into submission, Pyro deserted his enemy comrade and headed for the Red fort. He would not be consumed with guilt at his betrayal, for terror had all but consumed it.

"Dangnabbit damnit!" raged the Engineer. He had been left high and dry. And now the Snipers were torn from their wild asslicking and teabagging frenzy. Their sights were set upon his stocky yet desirable form.

He crouched behind his trusty dispenser, hoping the sentry he had just built with Pyro's brief diversion would be enough to gun down the sickening bastard convicts rom the fabled land Down Under. Another gunshot exploded it right in front of his perpetually goggled eyes. He gasped and stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own constructed sentry gun. But what he did do by accident was knock the sentry over, sending it crashing to the ground where it hummed and sputtered uselessly as the Snipers advanced upon poor cute little Engineer.

"Noooo!" he wailed. But it was already too late.

Like vampires, they went for his throat and began to bite into it with their long fangs. But unlike vampires, they did not so much such at the blood that began to flow free from his severed arteries as they did widen a hole in flesh so that they might shove their budgie blighters in it. His throat filled with blood and also a trio of stabbing piddle fiddles, Engineer could not even scream to express his discontentment with the current situation. He spurted and choked and gurgled and wheezed as he writhed in a mixture of agony and despair and mild pleasure as one of the Snipers began to chew on his scrotum. Or if you prefer, down-the-road sperm factory.

"Tagged ya, bloody egghead," murmured a Sniper who was frantically humping the Engineer's wrench holster.

Another ripped away the workman's accessory filled belt and shredded his overalls to reveal his plump ass cheeks, reddened by the harsh, ever present Texan sun. The Sniper slid a hand between the fluffy pillows and groaned with approval.

"Now that's real nooiiice," he drawled. He reached in deeper and located the dying man of science's unexplored worm hole. A finger inserted itself beyond space and time, and somewhere in Texas, a cow exploded for reasons unknown, other than the universe was damn near falling apart.

The horde began to fuck the dying Engineer's orifices, both birthed and manufactured, until he died for real. And then they continued fucking him after he was dead. They fucked long and hard and sloppy, until there wasn't much left of the unfortunate man but a sack of skin and bone and torn cloth. They had decimated his internal organs and unleashed all of his blood. Distantly amused at this, they began to fill him back up with semen until he became a horrifying scarecrow of sorts, a mock human skin filled with man-slime. Then they sat him up against the wooden railing and went to hunt down the escaped Pyro.

The dead, cum-filled Engineer sat there for a long time, growing fetid and lumpy in the hot day's sun. Then he fell over and oozed bloody cum from his distended mouth hole.

Somewhere in the world, two children were having sweet dreams. Then they woke up screaming with minds shattered and unsalvageable, filled with unspeakable visions of the future.


	6. TF2

February 25, 1967 - ctf_Teufort

109:0s21X A.D.

Heavy was alone. His team had either deserted him or fell victim to the growing horde of rape-Snipers. He was used to being surrounded by baby-men. But this was just sick. And not in a babies fighting men sort of way. Sick in a "holy shit people are getting raped to death by all these fucking Snipers" sort of way. Luckily for Heavy, his brain wasn't as big and as computable as other people's. Or maybe it was and fandom stereotypes had caused him to become the brain dead brute of the group. But either way he made a terrible decision. And that was to go out and fight his way toward escape.

He punched through a wall and ran as fast as his tiny little legs would take him upstairs and through the ruptured bowels of Red base. His giant ham-like fists were raised in perpetual defense, ready to punch the face of any Australian he encountered into a pulpy paste. Unease filled him as he saw no traces of anyone while making his way through the shadowy halls. But he did see blood. Lots and lots of blood. And some lumps of gore every now and then, but deposited from whom he could not tell. He was starting to wonder if the Sniper attack was over and they had moved on. That was when he came around a corner and found a Red Sniper doing the two-man tango with the blood-soaked corpse of a Blu Demoman. The Sniper was frantically fucking the dead Scot's eye hole, the patch wrapped tightly around the base of his thrusting dipstick like some sort of makeshift cockring.

"DAAAAAAH!" yelled Heavy, momentarily startled. Then he felt only rage.

Before the Sniper could give him much regard, Heavy shoved his fist into the Aussie creep's fragile skull. It caved away and the man's useless, tainted brain fell to the floor with a graceful plop. The corpse of the Sniper collapsed on top of his previously deceased fuck buddy.

"Was close call," Heavy breathed, his baboon heart pounding away. He vowed to pay closer attention to his surroundings. But then he stepped out from the doorway and gasped. "Is not possible!"

Snipers covered the bridge in numbers too large to count. Because Heavy could only count to seven and were more than that there. Unknown to Heavy, there were about twelve or thirteen Snipers there. They were still busy forming small piles of horrific love along the rough wood. A small group of four Snipers were gathered in front of the potential corpse of a Pyro. The unfortunate creature's gas mask lenses had been shattered out, leaving gaping black holes which the Snipers were taking turns shooting their despicable sperm into, like some sort of twisted carnival game. If the Pyro had still been alive, Heavy could not decipher. The figure did not move an inch even as the Snipers coated it with ropes of their diseased dispersal.

"Noice shot," they congratulated each other huskily when someone made a clear shot into one of the eye holes.

Heavy regretted the loss of his beloved minigun, Sasha. She had been swarmed upon in the locker room by a smaller horde of enemy Snipers, her innards coated with their gooey splooge, rendering her unusable. She had created a diversion, giving her life for his. He cried until all his tears had been shed. Now he felt himself consumed with hate and rage for his sick Australian enemies. But he knew he had to be careful, because they were a deceptive bunch. But then he forgot two minutes later because he was real dumb. He ran out blindly, bellowing a war cry.

He punched and punched and punched some more, screaming and crying and gnashing teeth. When he opened his eyes he soon realized he hadn't hit anything because he had run right through them without paying attention. "OOH!" he gasped. It was sad day to be giant stupid man.

The Snipers growled and hissed and closed in on him. But then something happened which caused Heavy's brutishly unintelligent and heathen Communist ass to wonder if there truly was a great American God out there. If so, he would pray to it every day and provide it with large offerings of hearty Borscht and fresh sacrifices of first born sons and small animals.

A Blu Sniper was excitedly fucking one of his own in the arse. His grunts and gasps of pleasure because louder as the pace of his thrusts increased to a maddening speed. "Uh UH UH," he groaned loudly. Blood began to pour from his mouth and nostrils, following with streams from his eyes trailing down his cheeks like tears. The veins in his body bulged and darkened. "I'M COMIIIIIIN'," he screamed joyously, lost in his own orgasmic euphoria.

And then he exploded in a wash of steaming blood, guts, bone, piss, and probably gooey excrement. Hope you aren't eating chocolate right now.

The river of gore splashed everything around, including Heavy. The obese Russian let out a scream of dwindling sanity, staring down at his soddened self. To his right, another Sniper trapped in the act of self-gratification was panting furiously. His donger began to spew early, not a stream of milky man-juice, but a flood of blood. The modest stream turned quickly into a gushing torrent, pouring along the bridge like a garden hose. Then the flow rose to that of a fire hose, the stream so powerful that it knocked away two other Snipers caught it its unrelenting path.

"UH UH UAAAAH!" orgasmed the Sniper, as bursts in his very flesh began to appear, spilling even more blood, until he looked like a bizarre man-sized sprinkler. "GOD SAVE DA QUEEN!" he cried. "SO I KIN FUCK 'ER!" He exploded.

The pack of Snipers hadn't appeared all that much concerned with the violent and unexpected demise of their brethren. They watched a Soldier take aim at them and unleash a rocket toward the bridge, which exploded without doing any real damage to anyone, and then get swarmed on and torn apart by three other Snipers. While the other Snipers busied themselves with trying to fuck the American patriot's severed limbs, the rest turned their attention back to Heavy.

"Yeah, I loik 'em fat," spoke a Sniper. His grasping hands latched onto Heavy's buttocks and squeezed a huge handful of delightful flab. Heavy squealed and his booted footsies left the ground for about a fraction of a second.

"Mm, loik 'em fat, aaah," moaned another, pouncing upon Heavy and mounting him. Both fully clothed. He began to dry hump Heavy who was temporarily rendered insane, bursting into laughter and doing his "POW HA HA" gun taunt, which hit nothing. Because the boolits were all in his ravaged mind. The Sniper pressed into the fat man's bloodied, clothed flesh, thrusting harder and faster until he too exploded from currently unknown causes. A second Blu Sniper ran at Heavy and jumped up into his face, comfortably settling himself on the Russian's ample frame while he calmly inserted his wiener into the large chuckling mouth where it was tickled and teased by the huge flapping tongue. Tears streamed down Heavy's face. He was done for. It was sad day.

It was sadder day as four other Blu Snipers flung themselves upon him, erupting into a massive fuck frenzy of unmentionable proportions. But they will be mentioned anyway.

The one Blu continued to fuck Heavy's open mouth as Heavy lacked all capability to defend himself from the attack, what little was left of his mind had took refuge deep inside the inner most recesses of his mind, in his Happy Place. It consisted of a large meadow with bunnies and flowers, and his mommy making heaping plates of sausage and potatoes. Only the more he looked at them, the more they seemed like penises and balls. But he enjoyed them anyway. Because he was officially insane. On the inside. On the outside, he was pretty much a complete vegetable, so the Snipers had their way with him without protest. Another Blu of the completely nude persuasion began flogging his hog while beating Heavy's meat into proper engorgement. He was unprepared for the true girth of the wondersome whacker, and it hit him in the mouth when it sprung to full size, knocking him off balance. It was only temporary. He got back to his shoeless feet and latched on to the inflated bear shwang like a suckling baby to a mother's teat. The Blus at Heavy's rump worked as one, placing their dirty drillers together to form one large dick worthy of the voluptuous Russian bear's candy mountain cave. They forced their way inside Heavy's wide load and he let out nary a scream of agitation nor pain, nor even a muffled vocalization of any sort through the other Blu Sniper's exploring exploradora. The weight became too much for his weak little legs and he crashed to his knees, but that was about it.

"Can't 'old it in much LONGAH!" grunted the Sniper on Heavy's face. He unleashed a pained-pleasured scream before blowing up into hundreds of bloody, sloppy man-chunks like his mates before him, which caused a chain-reaction explosion among the other Snipers. Which blew Heavy apart as well, ending his unbearable torture.

Without any enemies to oppose their ranks, the Sniper horde continued to fuck long into the evening, before whatever incomprehensible and unholy disease ran its course fully and caused them to self-destruct via internal explosion. Perhaps it was because their own bodies could not handle the sheer force of the murderous sexual fury that had all but consumed them. Perhaps it was some random chemical reaction between blood, cum, and unknown substances from the field of combat. Perhaps a wayward pinch of sodium chloride that had traveled from a Demo's sticky into someone's arse. We might never know.

Because the incident was promptly covered up by TF Industries once they got wind of it. And it was a foul wind, indeed. Residents from miles around called in to complain about the awful scent encroaching onto their once proud territories, the blame placed immediately upon the Teufort fortress once the smell was found to be wafting from the area. A team of expendables was sent in to investigate when no one stationed there could be reached for proper questioning. They were thankful for their biohazard suits even though the stink was so powerful, it permeated everything, almost down to the very soul. A terrible sight awaited them, one of torn and spattered bodies everywhere, the whole place absolutely covered from wall to ceiling and back with deceased human matter. It stuck thickly to the walls, the fences, the bridge, heated and putrefied by the day's hot sun. The water had been turned a bright red and it was hard to tell if it was water at all or just blood. The heads of the dead men bobbed here and there in the calm waves. Not even the birds or flies had come to inspect and partake of the potential feast which lay before them. It was as if the place had become so soured not even nature's own clean up crew wanted anything to do with it. They knew better. So the TF Industries clean up crew had to do it all. Once the weaker members of the group stopped puking inside their helmets and the braver ones stopped poking at things with sticks. Even when they had removed most of the gore and cum and piss stains and dead bodies were burned to ash, they weren't at all sure that the place would ever truly be the same again. Or that certain stains could even be washed out, they had become so deeply set in. But they tried really hard to clean them anyway.

The incident faded from the filed records, back into obscurity where it belonged, and the other men of TF Industries mercenary ranks went back to work at the shoddy little forts, completely unaware that such unimaginably horrific events had ever taken place right under their noses.

But every once in a while, some had a growing suspicion, usually every time someone accidentally uncovered a batch of skulls trapped several feet below the dirt, or bumped into a piece of broken skeleton down in the sediment beneath the murky waters of the stinking sewer tunnels. Some got curious and ended up digging several watches and a pair of ostrich skin boots from the earth. The items were darkened with long dried blood. It disturbed the more twitchy members of the group, but rarely anyone went further to investigate the oddities.

There was no need to find out what had happened here. Because deep down, nobody really wanted to, and gut feelings made sure of it.


	7. FANFIC

February 25, 1968 - ctf_2Fort

12:53 P.M.

"So den I guess dey said dat dey would have ta nuke da whole damn site from orbit. But den I was like, couldn't dey just nuke da damn place from a couple thousand feet in a helicopter or som'pin?" The Scout laughed a hideously loud laugh. The Pyro he was making light and unnecessary conversation with just stood there without moving, holding his Axtinguisher and staring at the wall. He might have been listening, or he might have been ignoring the Scout completely with a mind filled with adorable kittens dancing around in frilly pink tutus while people threw fish to them.

It was a boring day, like any other day at 2Fort, and was being spent the traditional way the men stationed here always spent it. By doing absolutely nothing.

Nobody had even made a move to try and capture the enemy's Intel in seven hours. They day continued to move along slowly. Until unexpectedly, a capture was made. Scout was more than bit annoyed, since now the slacking off was effectively ruined by somebody trying to do actual work, so now they'd all have to start working. A capture usually spurred the enemy into moving. Their Intel would have to be guarded instead of sitting there quietly and being left alone.

"Aw dammit! What da fuck, man?" he whined to Pyro, who was still standing there and not doing anything. But his head moved slightly to one side, so he was in fact attentive, if only a little.

"Hhsdfjgfdj," said the Pyro.

Scout went out to the hallway to watch for intruders. He waited about five minutes but didn't see anyone. So he went upstairs and looked outside. The fort was quiet. A little too quiet, but who was Scout to realize that? He was pretty much a annoying little retard but everyone loves him anyway because he's skinny and rapeable. And he was soon going to discover just how rapeable he was.

He thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn't say for sure. It was too fast to really see as it moved, but it had gone to the other Intelligence room door and probably down the ramp to below. He went back down the stairs, thinking it had to be a Spy. He pulled out his trusty bat, which still had collected hairs from his recent kills on it. When he entered the room he didn't see Pyro, but he saw who the figure in white had been. It was Medic, who had amazingly made the cap. He still had the Red's Intel briefcase in his hands and was going to place it on the desk. Scout was going to congratulate him but then the sudden sound of the angry Administrator's voice began to chant "WEWEWEWEWEWEWE" which startled him into a long pause. He stared at the Medic with growing uncertainty as to what the fuck the crazy old coot was doing.

"Yo Doc, why doncha cap dat shit already! Quit fuckin' around!" he complained, walking over. He stopped in his tracks as the Medic turned to reveal his fly undone, his wrinkled old meat slab whipped out. The Medic had it clutched in one brightly gloved hand, slapping it in turn against each of the glowing lock buttons on the case for Scout to see. Then he inserted it back into the parted briefcase and began pumping wildly into the papers stuffed within. He wore a deranged grin.

Scout heard a whimper from below, and discovered Pyro's fallen body behind the desk. A Bonesaw lay on the floor next to him, a NeedleGun with syringe case emptied to his side. The backside of Pyro's rubbery asbestos lined suit had been slice away, leaving his burn scarred ass cheeks exposed. Stuck in them, Scout saw about thirty syringes. They looked like a bad acupuncture job from a dirty old Chinese man. Pyro's abused ass revealed trace amounts of further, even more disturbing abuse. There was a thick, goopy trail of what could only be assumed as ejaculate. Medic's.

"D-Doc?" Scout whimpered, confusion and horror filling him at a rapid rate.

"Fuuuuck," the Medic answered.

As he looked into the Medic's soulless eyes, his sanity left him and he sank to his knees. Medic started walking toward him, with arms out and cum tipped fingers grasping.

Medic repeated the words hoarsely. "Fuck! Fuuuck all the schweinen!"

Scout began to weep.

**The End?**

If you've made it this far without going insane or vomiting, congratulations! This was written this year for a friend's birthday. Like some of my other cruel birthday gifts, I figured sharing it with the general public would be a fun thing to do. Hope you won't have to shell out money for years of therapy now. :)


End file.
